


Sleeping Soundly

by variableIntroversion



Series: After The End Of The World [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bro isn't a piece of shit in this AU, Comfort, Cuddling, Eventual Brodave later in the series but not in this fic, Fluff, Gen, Nightmares, Post SBURB, bc Dave is sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 15:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variableIntroversion/pseuds/variableIntroversion
Summary: You don't know what to do with yourself, now that you have a relatively normal world to live in. You're supposedly a king, supposedly a god, but you don't feel like either. You just feel tired.





	Sleeping Soundly

You wake up exhausted and shaking. Your heart beats fast, fast, but steady. Always steady. Your body always runs at a perfect rhythm, even if it changes tempo. Even if you're dragging in ragged, perfectly spaced apart breaths as you try to calm down. You don't, really, but you manage to carefully ball up all the panic until it's internal. That's what passes for calm, right?

Right.

You aren't going back to sleep.

But the thing with not sleeping is that you can't just lie in bed. Not for the boredom, but because then your mind starts to focus on every single thing about the past three years that you wish you could forget. You can't deal with that right now, so you don't stay put. You float out of bed and drift through the apartment, silent and aimless, like a displaced ghost. Everything is quiet, dark. City lights cast a faint orange glow through the windows, the muffled sound of car horns and the rumble of tires just barely reach you. It's familiar, in a way that makes you ache as much as it comes as a comfort.

You don't know what to do with yourself, now that you have a relatively normal world to live in. You're supposedly a king, supposedly a god, but you don't feel like either. You just feel tired.

You're really, really tired.

"Can't sleep, lil' man?"

You startle at Bro's voice. You thought he was asleep. And maybe he was, judging on how slurred his words were. He's not now, though, half propped up on the futon and watching you through sharp orange eyes. It's been a week since you won, a week since you got him back, and this is the fourth night you haven't been able to sleep. You hope this is the first time he's actually noticed.

"What, no. Can't a guy just float around his home like a knock-off of Casper the Friendly Ghost 'cause he feels like it?" It's a pretty shitty evasion, even you'll admit. Maybe you're a little more tired than you thought, if that's the best you could come up with. Bro sure as hell doesn't seem convinced, poker face even flatter than usual as he stares you down. You thought you might have grown past the point where it can make you squirm, but apparently not. "....Fine, no, not at fucking all. Don't worry about it, I can just go haunt some pigeons on the roof or something, no need to interrupt your beauty sleep."

"Dave." Bro sounds incredibly patient for a guy who just got woken up at three in the morning. You shut up automatically for him, just like you always do, and watch mutely as he throws back the thin sheet he uses as a blanket. You stare uncertainly, not sure if you should really take the action for what it obviously is, until he sighs and reaches for you. "C'mere."

In three years, you also thought you might have grown out of your immediate obedience to him. You're not really sure why, though. It's not that easy to unlearn thirteen years of hero worship and devotion. So before you even really think, you step closer, and by the time your brain has caught up with your body, Bro's gently gripping your arm and pulling you into bed with him.

"Dude, what-" You start, and then stop yourself when he tucks you right up against his side.

The thing about Bro is he's always been bigger than you. When you were a child, you always took comfort in it. Having what seemed like a giant at your side always made you feel safe, made you feel invincible. The feeling's lessened somewhat with age and broader perspectives, but you're realizing very suddenly that it hasn't completely faded.

You're slotted pretty much perfectly against him, pinned down by his heavy arm around your shoulders. Comforting weight, comforting warmth. He breathes deeply, almost as rhythmically as you do, but not as exact. That's also comforting. It becomes white noise quickly, filling your head and smoothing your thoughts down into something still. Your faux calmness is giving way to the real thing quickly.

It should be embarrassing at sixteen gog-damn years old that you're snuggling closer to your big brother. Maybe it would be if he didn't reciprocate, if you didn't feel the way he squeezes you until you're practically using his shoulder as a pillow. Maybe you'd care more if you couldn't hear his heartbeat, and if that didn't send you halfway into a doze in seconds.

Maybe you don't give a damn either way, because you're falling asleep again, and you feel safe for the first time in three years. 


End file.
